With Hope and Love

by Ellie Dean

  Peggy doled out the aspirin with cups of hot tea and silently placed bowls of porridge in front of each of them.

  With muttered thanks, the three girls tucked in and once the last scrape of porridge was devoured, and the teapot emptied, Ivy felt marginally better. She surreptitiously glanced across at Cissy, who she secretly admired for her looks and rather daunting sophistication, and realised that she was far from her usual glamorous, well-groomed self this morning – in fact she looked disappointingly plain.

  ‘How’re you settling in Ron’s room, Cissy?’

  ‘It’s not too bad,’ she replied. ‘Although I wouldn’t want to be down there in winter.’ She gave a delicate shudder. ‘But I’m not planning on still being here by then,’ she said. ‘Once Randy comes back, we’ll be moving to California where it never gets cold.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ replied Ivy without rancour. ‘But if you’re finding it a bit lonely down there, you could move in with Rita and me. We talked about it yesterday, and there’s plenty of room for another bed up there.’

  ‘That’s very sweet of you both,’ Cissy replied coolly, ‘but I’m actually quite enjoying having a room to myself after sharing with eight others; and being downstairs, I can come and go as I please and not disturb anyone.’

  Ivy thought this was very kind of Cissy, but suspected the real reason she didn’t want to share was because she’d got so posh from being up there at Cliffe with the toffs that she felt she had nothing in common with the likes of her and Rita. Which, to be fair, was true.

  ‘Right, I’m off to work,’ Ivy said, scraping back her chair and making Cissy shudder. ‘See you all at teatime.’

  ‘Don’t forget your lunch box and thermos,’ said Peggy, handing her the small battered tin and thermos in a string bag. ‘It’s only dripping sandwiches today, I’m afraid, but I’ve tried to liven them up with salt and pepper.’

  Ivy gave her a hug. ‘Thanks, Auntie Peg, you’re a diamond. I’d forget me ’ead if it weren’t screwed on proper.’

  ‘You take care at the factory and come home safe,’ said Peggy, hooking the girl’s untidy hair behind her ears with motherly affection. ‘And don’t stop off at the pub on the way. You’ve had enough drink this past week to sink a battleship.’

  Ivy giggled, gave her a hug and then clattered down the cellar steps, slamming the back door behind her.

  ‘I do wish she wouldn’t do that,’ snapped Cissy. ‘Can’t you have a word with the wretched girl, Rita? All her crashing and banging about is really beginning to get on my nerves.’

  ‘It’s not my place to tell her anything,’ said Rita calmly. ‘If you don’t like it, you talk to her. But I wouldn’t take that tone, Cissy,’ she warned softly. ‘Ivy can be a bit of a scrapper if she thinks you’re looking down on her.’

  ‘Good grief,’ breathed Cissy, rolling her eyes. ‘I’m amazed you’ve kept her on, Mother, if she’s like that.’

  Peggy raised an eyebrow at being called ‘Mother’ and placed the refreshed teapot carefully on the table before folding her arms and giving Cissy a stern glare. ‘This is Ivy’s home, just as it’s Rita’s and all the others’, and if you’re going to stay here, then you’ll have to get used to it. Apart from that, I don’t like your attitude, and if you’re going to be in a rotten mood then I suggest you go back to bed.’

  Cissy reddened at her mother’s chiding in front of Rita, poured another cup of tea and, with a mulish expression, flounced back downstairs.

  Peggy smiled at Rita. ‘Cissy might think she’s all grown-up and terribly smart, but she’s yet to learn not to flounce about when taken down a peg or two.’ She gave a sigh and turned back to the range to check on the porridge she was keeping warm for the others. ‘Some things don’t change, do they?’

  ‘Cissy always did a good flounce, I seem to remember,’ replied Rita with a chuckle. ‘Very dramatic, she was – but back then she’d been harbouring dreams of becoming the next Ginger Rogers.’

  Peggy grunted, thankful that that particular phase in her daughter’s life was well and truly over. But if she was going to behave snootily towards the other girls and get in a mood at the drop of a hat, then something would have to be done about it. There had been enough disruption at Beach View when her sister Doris had come to live with them, and she was not going to tolerate Cissy putting on airs and graces.

  She stirred the porridge. It was the first day back to work after all the excitement, and no doubt everyone would be feeling a bit down about having to return to the humdrum daily routine. She didn’t feel that bright herself and wasn’t looking forward to facing a factory full of tired women who’d no doubt take umbrage at the slightest thing.

  ‘So, Rita, what are your plans today?’

  ‘I’m going to tidy our room.’

  Peggy nearly dropped the spoon in the porridge. ‘Good grief, wonders will never cease.’

  ‘I know,’ giggled Rita. ‘But it’s so bad up there we can’t find anything.’ She scraped a bit of margarine onto a slice of toast. ‘And after that I’m doing our washing before going up to the Memorial to see Peter. He didn’t look too good yesterday, and I want to make sure he’s okay.’

  ‘He’s overdone things, silly boy,’ said Peggy briskly.

  Rita sighed. ‘That’s Australian men for you, Auntie Peg – stubborn as mules and determined to prove they’re tough.’

  Peggy giggled. ‘You could be describing men the world over. My Jim’s the same.’ She caught the sound of people moving about in the bathroom and on the landing, and the hum of Cordelia’s stairlift descending to the hall. ‘Well, you take care on that motorbike, and don’t forget it’s your turn to cook the tea with Sarah before you go on duty tonight. Alf the butcher dropped off some mince earlier, so you can fry it with onions and make a shepherd’s pie with the leftover veg and a fresh mash topping.’

  Rita finished her toast and took Daisy upstairs with her just as Sarah and Danuta came into the kitchen with Cordelia, swiftly followed by Fran and Robert. Fran and Danuta were in their nurse’s uniforms and Sarah was wearing a sprigged cotton frock and thick white cardigan for her work at the council offices.

  Peggy thought they looked a little less exuberant this morning, which was hardly surprising, but Robert was chirpier, freshly shaved and very smart in a three-piece suit. As for Cordelia, she was looking quite exhausted, and Peggy felt a dart of concern. Cordelia had celebrated her eightieth birthday just before Christmas, and was as small and frail as a bird despite her usual boundless enthusiasm for parties and sherry. Like Peter, she’d clearly been overdoing things.

  Sarah settled her great-aunt at the table and poured her a cup of tea. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to have your breakfast in bed this morning?’ she asked gently.

  ‘I’m not in the habit of lying in when there are things to be done,’ Cordelia replied, twiddling to get the volume right on her hearing aid. ‘Besides, I hate getting crumbs in the bed.’

  ‘What things need doing, Cordelia?’ asked Peggy. ‘If you give me a list, I’m sure I can nip out at lunchtime and do them for you.’

  ‘Just this and that,’ she replied airily. ‘No need to molly-coddle me, Peggy. I’m perfectly capable, you know.’ She looked at Peggy over her half-moon glasses. ‘Where are the newspapers? You know I can’t eat breakfast without having something to read.’

  ‘They haven’t arrived yet,’ Peggy replied, placing the porridge in front of her. ‘But there are a couple of letters from your son’s family in Canada. Why don’t you read them until the papers come?’

  Cordelia gave a sigh and looked around the silent gathering without much enthusiasm. ‘I must say,’ she declared, ‘you look a very dull lot this morning. What’s the matter? Can’t you take the pace?’ She chuckled. ‘I bet that old scallywag Ron is as bright as a button – but then he always could hold his drink.’

  There was a general gasp at this sweeping statement as they all remembered scenes of past shenanigans involving Ron and alcohol. ‘He co
uld do no such thing,’ Peggy spluttered.

  ‘He was always over it by morning,’ Cordelia replied stubbornly. ‘Breakfast won’t be the same without the old rogue to spar with – and although I’d never tell him, our little arguments used to perk me up no end and set me up for the day.’

  Peggy was about to reply when the telephone rang. Dashing into the hall, her hopes high that it could be Anne or Doreen, she snatched up the receiver.

  ‘Hello, Mum. It’s Anne. I’m so sorry not to call sooner, but the lines have been jammed solid since Tuesday.’

  ‘It’s been the same for me,’ said Peggy, settling onto the hall chair, ready for a lovely long chat. ‘I’ve lost count of the times I’ve tried to get through to you and your Aunt Doreen.’

  ‘Isn’t it the most marvellous thing to know it’s all over at last? We had a brilliant party in the village, with tables going all the way down the middle of the main street, and every house was decorated with bunting and flags. We’re so lucky to live down here in farming country. You should have seen the baking all the women did – it was a veritable feast. Of course the boys and I thought of you all at Beach View, but poor Sally was pining for her John, so I think she’ll probably leave as soon as the school term finishes – she’s really homesick.’

  Before Peggy could ask if she was feeling the same about coming home, Anne rushed on. ‘I’ll be back in the schoolroom today, but to be honest, Mum, I can’t really keep my mind on lesson plans for over-excited seven-year-olds when I’m on such tenterhooks waiting to hear if Martin has been released from the POW camp.’

  ‘Neither Kitty nor Charlotte has been notified about Roger and Freddy, and Cissy’s heard nothing about Randy, so I suspect the authorities are waiting to confirm their release once they’ve all been accounted for, given medical checks and been debriefed. It was the same in 1918. Your dad, Frank and Ron had to jump through all sorts of official hoops before they were demobbed, and it was a full three weeks after the Armistice before they came home.’

  ‘I’m rather hoping things will have improved since then,’ said Anne with some asperity, ‘and that because they’ve been prisoners of war, they’ll be given special treatment.’

  ‘I’m sure the powers that be will see that they do,’ Peggy replied, swiftly going on to the question she’d been desperate to ask since peace had been declared. ‘When are you all coming home? I can’t wait to see you, and Ron is desperate to see the boys and meet his great-grandchildren.’

  There was a long silence and Peggy thought they’d been cut off until Anne finally replied. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, but it won’t be for a while yet. It’s the middle of the summer term and the headmaster, George Mayhew, is really struggling to find my replacement. The girl I took over from was sadly killed, and it seems there’s a real reluctance to fill teaching posts in such isolated rural areas.’

  ‘But you’ll come home at the end of term, won’t you?’ Peggy persisted. ‘I’m sure the school board will have found another teacher by then.’

  ‘Actually, Mum, it’s not that simple. I owe it to George to stay on to assist with all the arrangements for getting our evacuee children back home, and in July, the school is being used as a polling station for the general election. As I’ve become involved in local politics over the past couple of years, I’ve been asked to oversee things here on polling day and then assist with the count in Taunton.’

  Anne took a breath and hurried on. ‘Then there’s Vi’s cows. She can’t manage them now the land girls have gone, so I’ll have to stay and help until she and Bob can find a reliable chap to take on the dairy.’

  Peggy seethed that evacuee children, cows and a general election seemed more important to Anne than returning home. ‘What about Martin? Surely you’ll want to be here when he’s released?’

  Anne’s voice became brisk. ‘I’ve already contacted RAF HQ and asked them to make sure he’s sent straight here. There’s plenty of room on the farm, and it’s so lovely and peaceful it will do Martin the world of good, and give him time to recover and get used to family life again.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Peggy’s spirits plummeted, for it seemed it could be a long time before she had the chance to get used to family life again. ‘But what about Bob and Charlie? Surely they can come home?’

  There was a silence so tense at the other end of the line that Peggy could feel it, and she braced herself for more bad news.

  ‘Mum, you really haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?’ Anne said with barely concealed impatience. ‘Bob’s running the farm. He’s got the summer harvest and autumn ploughing to organise, and although he’s been excused National Service, he still has to attend the local Territorial Army base several hours a week.’ Her voice softened. ‘But I’m sure he can arrange some time off around Christmas when things on the farm slow down.’

  ‘Christmas?’ Peggy squeaked. ‘But that’s months away and, God willing, your father could very well be home by then. He’ll be expecting to see all his family, and will be devastated if Bob’s not here.’

  ‘I know how disappointed you must be, Mum, but farming isn’t a nine to five sort of job, and Bob can’t leave everything to Vi and the German POW who’s asked to stay on.’

  Anne had absolutely no idea of the depth of her mother’s disappointment. Peggy was getting crosser by the minute at being thwarted at every turn. All she wanted was to get her family back to Cliffehaven where they belonged.

  ‘At least none of that will affect my young Charlie – he’ll definitely be coming home once school term’s over,’ she said brightly. ‘I suppose he’ll travel with Sally, her little Harry and young Ernie?’

  ‘Oh, Mum. I’m so sorry,’ sighed Anne, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘But he’s refusing to leave. Aunt Vi, Sally, Bob and I have tried everything from blackmail to threats to make him change his mind, but he’s adamant he wants to stay here and get his school certificate. Although I think his place in the rugby team has more to do with it. You see, he’s been asked to join the Somerset Junior Fifteen, which is quite a coup.’

  Peggy had the most awful lump in her throat which she couldn’t shift. Charlie had only just turned fourteen, which last year would have allowed him to finish school. But the government had raised the leaving age to fifteen only this year. It simply wasn’t fair. And it felt as if the world – and her family – was against her.

  She wanted to cry, to beg Anne to try again to change Charlie’s mind, but she knew that no amount of cajoling, boxed ears or bribing would work on her youngest son, who from an early age had possessed the Reilly stubborn streak. Once he’d decided on something, nothing would shift him. In that way he was very much like his father and grandfather.

  ‘Is he there? Can I speak to him?’ she managed.

  ‘He left half an hour ago to catch the school bus,’ said Anne.

  Peggy swallowed her tears and tried to be brave, but her heart was aching with sorrow and she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  ‘You could always catch a train down here and bring Daisy to meet us all,’ said Anne hopefully. ‘We’d love to see you, really we would, and it would give you a chance to talk to Charlie face-to-face. He might listen to you.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Peggy said brokenly. ‘I have responsibilities here and at the factory – and the journey is too long to come just for a weekend.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing either of us can do until the end of summer,’ said Anne rather purposefully. ‘I’m sorry to have been the bearer of such disappointing news, Mum, but I promise faithfully that when we do come home, I shall bring Charlie, even if I have to get Martin to carry him kicking and screaming onto the train. He’s getting too big for his boots, if you ask me, and although Bob has done his best to keep him in line, he really needs a man’s firm hand.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Peggy on the verge of tears once again. ‘He always was a handful.’

  ‘He still is,’ said Anne flatly.

  Peggy was desperate to end this aw
ful telephone call, so when Cissy wandered into the hall, she saw a way to escape. ‘Cissy’s here. I’ll hand you over.’ Before Anne could reply, she thrust the receiver at a startled Cissy and fled upstairs to lock herself in the bathroom.

  Grabbing a towel, she pressed her face into it to smother the sound of her wracking sobs. She’d waited so long to have them all home and now her hopes were dashed, and all the lovely dreams she’d had of being a proper family again were shattered.

  ‘What’s going on, Anne?’ Cissy asked. ‘What have you been saying to Mum to make her cry?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ sighed Anne. ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’

  ‘Well, you did, so you’d better explain.’

  Anne went into a long explanation to justify her side of the telephone conversation. ‘How was I to know she’d take it all so badly?’ she said some time later. ‘She’s well aware of the life we’ve made for ourselves down here and surely must see that we can’t just drop everything at a moment’s notice? And the farm really is the best place for Martin to rest after all he’s been through. Our tenants in the cottage have another three months on their lease, and with Beach View no doubt still packed to the gunnels, he wouldn’t be able to cope with all the noise and comings and goings.’

  ‘I do understand your point of view,’ Cissy replied, keeping her tone reasonable despite her rising anger. ‘But you should have at least warned her before now that it would be some time before you’d all be home – and not leave it until the last minute to drop your bombshell.’

  Anne tried to protest, but Cissy talked over her. ‘What you haven’t considered in your clearly busy little life, is the fact that Mum has bravely kept going these past six years by holding on to the belief that we’ll all come home once the war’s over. She’s clung to it through thick and thin, even though she’s terrified that something might happen to Dad. And I think it’s thoughtless of you not to at least try to come home earlier.’

  ‘I did suggest she came down here,’ said Anne crossly. ‘But it seems her job at the factory and her evacuees are more important than us.’